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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553969">On Heroism</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarewithnoi/pseuds/clarewithnoi'>clarewithnoi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Dirty Talk, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Overuse of italics, Protective James Potter, Romance, Wartime Jily, also, arguable overuse of the word baby but that's subjective, bonus chapter is also smutty lol am I ok, overuse of dashes, sirius is the long-suffering therapist friend we all need ok, slightly dark sexual fantasies explored here, take me away officer I deserve jail, this is 7500 words of pure filth, whose POV is this from? don't ask me I wouldn't fuckin know</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:33:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,567</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27553969</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarewithnoi/pseuds/clarewithnoi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James Potter has a bit of a hero complex, and it is ripe for the exploitation.</p><p> </p><p>OR: Lily arrives back from a two-week-long mission away.  You can imagine the kind of greeting she receives when she arrives unharmed.</p><p>(/slightly/ darker Jily smut)</p><p>EDIT: Now with a bonus chapter of James's experience while Lily was away.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James Potter/Lily Evans Potter</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>37</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Y'all..... I don't even know what to say for myself.</p><p> </p><p>You can find me in your local house of prayer, repenting.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If there were a list of approved topics to think about while sitting in an hours-long Order debrief, Lily Potter could reasonably assume that none of her current musings would make the cut.</p><p>No, she was quite assured in the notion that Mad-Eye Moody would not take kindly – should he ever become proficient in Occlumency – to the fact that instead of paying attention to the mission summary he was giving to herself and the four other Order members who had just returned back from Cardiff, bruised and scraped but otherwise unharmed, she was knee-deep in a memory of her husband bending her over their kitchen table and fucking her into the stratosphere.</p><p>Not exactly “constant vigilance.”</p><p>It was just that these Order debriefs were more a formality than anything else; Lily’s team had completed the assignment, everyone had made it back to London, and at present the only thing keeping her from a shower and a <em>mightily needed shag </em>was Moody’s droning on about things that they could do better on the next multi-week mission.</p><p>“—and those blasted vanishing cabinets,” he was grumbling to those sordid few who were still paying him mind, “I’ll need a report on how many there are distributed and which ones have their accounted partners.  I will not accept another Death Eater getting away because of a piece of blasted <em>furniture</em>, do you hear me?!”</p><p>Murmurs of distracted assent filled the small room, accompanied by the sound of wooden chairs tipping back and forth. </p><p>“Good.” Concluded Moody, although his expression did not display any indicator that he’d ever thought anything to be <em>good </em>in his entire life. “I suppose you’ll all be dismissed, then.”</p><p>Lily did her best to keep the “oh, thank god,” from tumbling out of her lips, and instead bid her teammates goodbye as she got up and prepared to apparate to her and James’s flat.</p><p>She was interrupted in this process, however, by a familiar shout. “Evans!”</p><p>“Sirius!”</p><p>She couldn’t help the smile that took over her face at the sight of her dearest friend, all suave good looks and megawatt smiles.  He threw his arms around her and she squeezed him tightly. “You bugger, I can’t believe I missed you before I left for Cardiff! How are you?”</p><p>His grin could have lit up the West End. “Sorry, m’love, absolutely despondent to report that I was rather drunk that evening.  But look at you – two weeks without your better half and you didn’t spontaneously combust!”</p><p><em>Give it five minutes</em>, she wanted to reply, but instead went with an achingly familiar eye-roll.  “Yes, well, unfortunately he wasn’t in condition to take on any new projects at the time.”</p><p>Sirius’s only reply was a sullen grimace of acknowledgement; he had been with James three nights before Lily was set to leave, when James had taken a nasty curse to his chest that sent both Sirius and Lily into a spiral of terror and worry. He’d been out of bedrest in two days thanks to Madam Pomfrey’s steady hand, and he was supposed to go to Cardiff with Lily for the Order’s next mission, but it was steadfastly held by every party that was not James Potter that he’d be much better suited for quieter work until fully healed.  He’d taken it with all of the grace of a two-year-old.</p><p>Lily, the more mature of the two, at least had the tact to wait until about three days into their separation to throw a tantrum about the long distance.</p><p>“And how are you?” Asked Sirius. “Run into the ground by all this unexpected Death Eater activity I’ve heard so much about? I didn’t even know they <em>had </em>Death Eaters in Wales!”</p><p>Lily groaned. “Absolutely ragged,” she confirmed.</p><p>The mission was supposed to be the destruction of dark objects found by a group of Wizards in Wales’s capital city, but with a sudden appearance of a few low-ranking members of Voldemort’s following, it became a reconnaissance mission – and then, like so many reconnaissance missions were wont to do, it became a series of day-long battles once they were discovered.</p><p>It had taken quite the exchange of owls to keep James in London when he found that piece of information out.</p><p>Lily herself had felt like the epicenter of the entire assignment; she’d been the one in charge of the potions required to dismantle the dark magic, and then she’d been the one to spot the Death Eaters in their hideout, and <em>then</em>, most exhausting of all, she had the most dueling experience of her team, so much of the fighting ended up on her shoulders. She’d nearly collapsed each night in the Order-provided housing, knackered and longing for the touch of her husband.</p><p>Sirius seemed to see her mind wandering. “Well, in that case,” he drawled, eyes dancing with mirth, “I’ll let you get back to your beloved.  I’m sure you’ve all manner of depraved activities you need to catch up on.”</p><p>That was right, she thought, he’d been staying with James while she was away.  <em>Pity to the state of the flat right about now.</em></p><p>“Oh, sod off, you.”</p><p>Sirius laughed openly.  Lily thought it was quite nice to see happiness on his face. “I’ve got to warn you, though – he’s in a meeting with the Prewett brothers for the next few hours, so he likely won’t be home when you get there. Oh, and I’ve somehow managed to convince him that you’re coming home tomorrow, not today – give you enough time to prepare yourself, and whatnot.”</p><p>And so, with a wink and a slobbery kiss to her cheek, he was gone in a flourish, leaving Lily to process all of the things she’d just been told.</p><p>
  <em>James won’t be there when you get home.  He doesn’t even know you’re coming back tonight.</em>
</p><p>Well, then – a long shower it was to be.</p><p>        </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p> </p><p>The shower, for all of its solitude, did feel absolutely amazing.</p><p>The warm water seemed to relieve the dull ache in Lily’s bones, and she’d never again complain about the lack of water pressure that came with the small one-bedroom flat, because she was able to wash all of the dirt and grime from her hair that she’d been unsuccessful at for both weeks in her small hostel.  By the time she finished, the bathroom was a cloud of steam and warmth.  It was <em>bliss.</em></p><p>She threw her hair into a messy plait and grabbed the first articles of clothing she saw in their dresser: some old sweatpants, a big cardigan, and James’s much-beloved Puddlemere United jersey.  The thing was massive on her, dwarfing her frame and fighting her to even stay situated on her shoulders, but she quite literally could not care less as she grabbed her purse and headed out to the shops – she knew what James was like when she was away, and it primarily consisted of takeaway containers and cheap firewhiskey (suspicions that were confirmed at once as she peered dubiously into their kitchen wastebasket, which was rife with curry containers from the hole-in-the-wall shop down the road. The pots and pans, however, were untouched and sparkling). </p><p>It was moments like this one where she remembered, like a shot to her heart that stopped her in her tracks, that they were both only nineteen. In another world, they’d be in their first year at uni. </p><p>In another world, they wouldn’t be soldiers.</p><p>She shook herself and grabbed her keys off out of the dish near the door. </p><p>The shopping trip was quiet, as most mid-afternoon shopping trips were; most people were at work or in school, and the local market was devoid of patrons but for an elderly couple perusing the produce section at a leisurely pace. Lily grabbed what she needed with quick, purposeful strides, bobbing into aisle after aisle to grab what she knew James had let run out.  </p><p>(So, in short, pretty much everything.)</p><p>Her mind was abuzz as she approached the register, thoughts whirring as she contemplated how she'd welcome her husband home that very evening.  <em>I'm sure I've got some sort of lingerie stuffed somewhere</em>, she thought with a grimace, <em>I'm sure my wardrobe can't all just be robes and jeans...</em></p><p>She was midway through her woe-inducing fashion inventory when the teenaged boy checking her out (both literally and figuratively, until he caught sight of the platinum band on her finger and blanched considerably) cleared his throat, sending a suspicious look to the four bags she'd managed to fill.  The lot of it was much too heavy for one person to carry on their own - let alone her petite self.  <em>Oops. </em> She shrugged off the concerned look of the checker with her biggest, doe-eyed smile, in her mind already running through the weight-lifting charm she would need, but on the outside assuring him that her husband was going to pick her up right outside, just round the corner there, so <em>thank you</em>, but she was quite alright.</p><p>Her feet carried her the short distance back to the flat; her mind was decidedly not involved in the process.  <em>I'm going to see him tonight, I'm going to see him tonight, I'm going to see him tonight...</em> and, before she knew it, she was outside of her building.</p><p><em>Put the groceries away, </em>she thought as she re-entered the flat, <em>get the laundry together, and maybe muster the energy to make something other than pasta for supper—</em></p><p>Lily paused, heart suddenly bursting, when she heard tell-tale humming of <em>Hey Jude </em>winding its way from the ensuite bathroom; there was only one person in the entire Wizarding world that could butcher a beloved song so badly, and she was married to him. </p><p>James was home.  James was <em>here.</em></p><p>The groceries – the object of her entire attentions only an hour earlier, believe it or not – seemed dreadfully unimportant as she tossed them onto the counter, hands nearly shaking in anticipation as she shrugged off her cardigan and reached for the drawstring of her sweatpants, breath stuttering to the tune of <em>he’s back he’s back he’s back.</em></p><p>(Lily Evans Potter had plans for her husband this night, and not one of them involved her wearing trousers.  She’d shimmied out of them before she’d even fully entered the bedroom.)</p><p>His humming became clearer as she progressed, and with it her nervous excitement.  She felt sixteen again, so dreadfully in love with him but so woefully inarticulate about it, hoping with each bated breath that he still might want her as much as he had in those faraway years when the world was simple and the only darkness to exist was in petty pranks and schoolyard fights.  It was almost difficult now to reconcile that, <em>yes, </em>he loved her, and she loved him, and they were <em>married</em>, and through all of the grief and the pain of war, the two of them were allowed such a tether to blissful, jubilant happiness.</p><p>She paused as soon as she saw him, drying his face off with a towel and – oh, <em>Merlin </em>– shirtless in some grey sweatpants that she was sure had to be illegal if they looked like <em>that</em>.  She opened her mouth, prepared to fire off some sort of witty chat-up line, something to set the mood for the evening yet also convey her sheer <em>joy </em>at seeing him alive and well and whole and <em>here</em>, but instead all that came out was a strangled whimper, a pathetic little thing that bubbled up and burst out of her before she had any say in the matter.</p><p>In any case, it got the job done quite well.</p><p>James turned his head toward the noise and all humming ceased instantaneously as his eyes widened and his nostrils flared.  He managed a hoarse, <em>“Lily?” </em>before he fully took in her appearance – his favorite Puddlemere United jersey, hair thrown roughly into a French plait, and (best of all) absolutely no trousers – and all breath seemed to leave him altogether.  His eyes roved her figure with open salaciousness; she had no objections and did not shy away.</p><p>Lily expected to see some sort of reaction from him, of course; two weeks was the longest they’d been apart since they started dating, and with the cause of their separation being what it was, the two of them had been absolute nervous wrecks for the duration.  There had been more than one occasion during the mission where James’s Patronus would gallop into the small hostel where Lily was staying, its mouth opening as the panicked voice of her husband rang out into the quiet of the small room, saying, <em>please tell me you’re safe </em>or <em>I miss you more than words can express </em>or <em>you’re never leaving me for this long again</em>. She did not fail to respond in kind, not even on her most tired of nights. </p><p>Lily also knew that he hated feeling useless; James Potter was a man of action.  Sitting idly by while his wife threw herself into near-certain peril did not rest comfortably in his bones, and she was well aware of his attempts at browbeating Dumbledore into sending him to Cardiff with her, only to be rebuffed given that <em>the team sent was perfectly equipped </em>and <em>he was terribly needed in London</em>. Instead, he’d been left to organize supplies and manage anti-apparition wards, dreadfully far from her and even more dreadfully sedentary. </p><p>These were all, she concluded at once, contributing factors as to why he was staring at her like she’d stepped out of a waking dream.  Well – that and the lack of trousers, most likely.</p><p><em>“Fuck,” </em>James swore under his breath as he set the towel down, but he never broke eye contact with her.  There was a pregnant pause, and Lily’s breath caught, almost paralyzed by the sight of him, all lean muscle and quiet strength.  He was <em>gorgeous </em>and <em>hers.</em></p><p>There was a half a beat more, and then James was upon her in three long strides.</p><p>The two of them crashed into each other and left space only for mingling moans between them, lips moving together and teeth clanking messily as they gripped gracelessly at each other’s faces and bodies. James swore once again as Lily bit down on his bottom lip softly, tugging it toward her in the way she knew he liked.  His answering groan sent heat pooling between her legs.</p><p>“I missed you so much,” Lily gasped, breaking away for the briefest of moments as she tugged on his curls, “you’re all I thought about, I couldn’t <em>sleep—”</em></p><p>James growled deep in his throat, displeased at the reminder of their separation. “They’re not taking you away from me again.” </p><p>His voice gave no room for argument, though she had no wish to give him one.</p><p>They were clumsily making their way in a diagonal across the bedroom, although with no clear destination in sight, as the bed sat multiple feet away and the small bench near the window was behind James’s back. Lily nearly lost her balance as they moved, and she detached herself from him for a brief moment to give appropriate credence to the terrified yelp that burst forth as she almost toppled over backwards.  “Oh, <em>shit!”</em></p><p>“I’ve got you,” murmured James as his arms shot out to steady her, lingering on her sides and steeling her in his grip, “I’ve got you.”</p><p>
  <em>I’ve got you. I’m here. I’m alive. You’re alive. We’re together.</em>
</p><p>The silent communication they had, reassurances and celebrations in turn, gave James enough time to trace his eyes over her form once again: her lips swollen, chest heaving with deep breaths, and the right sleeve of his Puddlemere jersey slipping off of her shoulder from the foray of their embrace. </p><p>“You’ve got to be part Veela.” His voice was full of wonder. “Merlin, you’re like sin itself.”</p><p>“No,” she breathed, eyes flicking to his lips while a small smile played on her own, “just a redhead. You’ve always had a soft spot for them.”</p><p>“Oh, please. I’ve only ever had a soft spot for <em>you</em>, you minx.”</p><p>She didn’t reply.  She was still looking at his lips, though her eyes were trailing downward. “Mm.”</p><p>James watched as she watched him, pupils dilated, and the image of her front teeth biting down on her lip as her eyes roved his bare chest was enough to send him surging forward once more.  She was more than ready to receive him.</p><p>In a smooth, somehow uninterrupted motion in the midst of their collective chaos, James threw one arm around her torso as the other clutched at her hair, lifting her up (and grinning at her surprised squeak) so that her legs instinctively wrapped around his hips as he pressed her into the wall of their bedroom.  The contact forced his clothed erection into direct contact with the lace of her knickers, and Lily arched into him with a choked cry, her mind hazily pleading, <em>almost there, fuck, so close so close so close</em>.</p><p>James rocked against her and bent his head to kiss the underside of her jaw, muttering darkly as he did so.  “Two fucking weeks,” he ground out, “two fucking weeks I had to sit here while you fought.  Two weeks I didn’t touch you—” another thrust forward, another cry from Lily’s lips, “—or listen to you moan my name, or see how those pretty green eyes roll back when I make you come.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>James…”</em></p><p>The hand caressing Lily’s plait took it by its end and tugged, hard, tilting her head back and exposing her neck to him.  He trailed kisses along the side of her throat and felt her breath stutter. “That’s right, baby, I want to hear my name from that gorgeous mouth.  Tell me how much you needed me while you were gone.”  </p><p>“So badly,” moaned Lily, trying fruitlessly to secure friction against her knickers even as she was trapped between the wall and James’s hard chest, “it was – <em>ohh, right there – </em>it was torture without you, James, <em>god</em>, I couldn’t think straight, I kept thinking about your hands and your arms and your cock, <em>fuck…</em>”</p><p>“My hands, yeah?”  He traced his fingers across Lily’s cheek, down to her jaw, and her throat, and over a hardened nipple on its pathway down to her underwear. She keened at the contact, trying to tug his head back up to meet their lips, but he stopped a hair’s breadth away from her panting mouth.  “What about my hands?”</p><p>As if to aid her in finding an example, his right hand massaged the inside of her thigh, not three inches away from where she wanted it most.  The muscle flexed and jumped at his touch.</p><p>“Your hands—” she bit off a moan as he dipped his head again, sucking on the juncture between her neck and shoulder where the oversized jersey had slipped off, “<em>James</em>, your hands are so big, your fingers, oh <em>god oh fuck</em>, your fingers are so much bigger than mine, I tried to touch myself, but—but it wasn’t the same, I needed you there, I needed to feel you so badly, <em>oh—!” </em></p><p>In most other moments, the triumphant smirk he wore as he gazed at her would have annoyed her.  In this particular moment, she thought she might orgasm just at the sight of it.  Then, his fingers ghosted over her knickers – she was left bereft of any coherent thought.</p><p>“<em>Fuck</em>, you’re so sexy, love,” he growled, and she could barely see a fleck of hazel for the size of his pupils, “that drives me absolutely mad, Lily.  Thinking about you missing my fingers inside you, the way you’d get worked up needing me. Do you want to come on my fingers tonight, Lily? You want me to remind you how it feels to ride my hand?”</p><p>Lily was near sobbing with the way that his touch was so feather-light against the black scrap of silk she wore under the jersey. “<em>Please</em>, James, please, touch me, I haven’t been able—not in—I can’t, not without—”</p><p>She was in no condition to be denied tonight, that much was obvious; James knew the difference between the Lily who wanted to play games and the Lily who was desperate for his touch.  But <em>fuck </em>if it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen, how badly she wanted him in this moment.  He’d been going crazy for the past two weeks, running around and taking on menial jobs to pass the time until she got back just to feel important or necessary or <em>needed</em>, because while the nonstop missions he’d been taking for the months prior were terrifying at best, at least they gave his shaky hands something to grip – they gave him a physical purpose in the midst of the chaos and the death and the destruction.</p><p>(The James Potter from Hogwarts was a Quidditch player; the James Potter in the Order of the Phoenix was a warrior.  If you took away the fight, he was terrified there would be nothing left of him underneath.)</p><p>But here Lily was, fresh from a two-week-long mission in Cardiff where she spent every waking moment as the most vital piece of the puzzle – the invaluable potions maker, the skilled healer, the vicious dueler – but she was telling him how badly she needed <em>him</em>.</p><p>The universe was vast and mysterious and daunting, but it was also beautiful in its idiosyncrasies – it had given him Lily.</p><p>James placed a kiss at the shell of her ear.  “Don’t worry, baby, I’m not gonna make you wait this time.  You’ve had such a hard time up in Cardiff by yourself, haven’t you? Gone too long without relief?”</p><p>Her eyes were squeezed shut as she nodded, brow furrowed, bottom lip pulled between her teeth to stifle the needy moan about to make its way from her vocal cords.</p><p>“<em>Oh—” </em>She was half-gone the second his fingers slipped past her knickers to stroke a line from her center to her clit. She threw her head back against the wall with a dull <em>thud </em>as James let out a strangled curse.</p><p>“<em>Merlin</em>, Lily, you’re so fucking wet for me<em>. </em>It’s just for me, isn’t it, love? You need me to touch you, to make you feel good, don’t you?”</p><p><em>“Yes,” </em>she cried, “yes, James, just for you, I’m yours, only yours—”</p><p>“Fuck,” voice shaking, he drew another line, this time from her clit back to her entrance, “I love it when you tell me that, Lily. You’re <em>mine.”</em></p><p>The circles he drew around her clit sizzled from her core all the way to the tips of her fingers and back; she thought for a moment that if she were to open her eyes, she’d see sparks flying up and down her arms like tiny fireworks across her skin.  Indeed, she saw colors fly behind her eyelids when he pressed <em>one, two </em>fingers inside of her and clutched her to his chest with his other arm, giving her the room to rock her hips back and forth as he scissored his fingers in a cruelly wonderful rhythm, leaving her gasping and seizing her legs around his hips.</p><p>“<em>James…”</em></p><p>Her hands found the way to the sides of his face, and her eyes flew open in search of his own, which were watching her intently and near unblinking.  Lily could feel his cock, hot and hard and pulsing in his sweatpants, at her thigh – just the thought of it sent her reeling.  She pulled him into an open-mouthed kiss, her tongue licking into his mouth and swallowing his moans into her own.</p><p>James pulled his head back by a centimeter and watched her chase his lips.  “Gods, you’re so pretty,” he hissed, speeding his fingers up and watching her arch forward in response, “I’m gonna take this moment and put it in a pensieve, and I’m gonna watch it every night – you should see how you <em>look</em>, the way you’re moving for me, so fucking sexy.”</p><p>“It’s so good, James, <em>Jesus</em>—”</p><p>“I love it when you use muggle swears,” he chuckled, and the look she shot him would have been confused if she could even focus her eyes, “I’ve got you so wound up you can’t even remember what god you worship. <em>Fuck.</em>”</p><p>Her legs were beginning to shake around his hips, a telltale sign that she was close to finishing.  He let his thumb trace figure-eights around her clit; the reaction was an instantaneous full-body shiver that he wanted to burn into his memory forever.</p><p>“I’m gonna—James, don’t stop, <em>please</em>, I’m so—”</p><p>He shushed her with the press of his lips on hers. “Go on, love,” he murmured, “come for me, let me see those eyes – let me see that beautiful <em>face</em>.”</p><p>It was apparent that her entire body followed his commands even when her mind felt like Jell-O, because not a second later she peaked with a broken wail of his name, clutching at his face and hair as her eyes (also at his beck and call, it would seem) did indeed roll toward the sky.  She was somewhere in the stars, nebulous and ethereal, ascending from his hands and his lips and his voice…</p><p>As she came down, she felt him thrust involuntarily against her thigh, hissing, “yes, fuck, Lily, <em>Merlin</em>…”</p><p>Lily’s body and mind were once again at odds: her body felt boneless, but her mind knew she needed more of him.  Two weeks away from her husband warranted a bit more than getting off on his fingers.</p><p>“Oh, gods, I love you,” she whimpered against his lips, eyes half-lidded but still looking at him imploringly, “I love you, I <em>need </em>you, I need more, please, <em>James</em>.”  She felt like her entire body was vibrating (with need or just post-orgasm hormones, she wasn’t sure).  She reached down between them to cup him, still pressed insistently, <em>tantalizingly</em>, against the inside of her thigh: “I need <em>this</em>.”</p><p>James groaned at the contact.  His eyes were dark, and his expression promised her nothing short of oblivion. “And you’ll get it.”</p><p><em>Oh god; oh Merlin, Agrippa, Godric and the rest of them… </em>“Bed,” Lily whimpered, watching him shut his eyes at the sound of her voice and take a moment’s pause, and she reveled in it, the way just her voice could undo him so visibly, “please?”</p><p>The kiss he bestowed on her was affirmation enough; it also, as most of his kisses did, sent her right back into a tizzy of arousal.  He lifted her from the wall and began to stride towards their large, four-poster bed (once a Hogwarts student, always a Hogwarts student) without breaking their kiss.  It was she who pulled away as he sat down, now with her straddling him and cupping his face in her hands.</p><p>“I thought so much about—about—” his hands were on the insides of her thighs again, massaging them.  She thought she might combust, “I thought about what you’d do, James…”</p><p>His lips had taken up residency at her pulse point. “What I’d do?”</p><p>“What you’d do if something happened to me, I mean—”</p><p>She was cut off by the sound of James’s growl, dangerous, a warning.  “Don’t fucking talk like that.”  His hands flew to her hips and brought her down to grind on his erection; she gasped loudly.</p><p>“No, <em>no.  </em>Not like that,” she said dizzily.  He was working her into a torturous rhythm on his lap, and she was sure that his sweatpants were damp with her arousal, equally as sure as she was that she was going to go cross-eyed before she could ever get her point across, “I mean – <em>oh, there, just there – </em>I mean, if something happened to me—<em>fuck!” </em>He’d bitten the spot on her neck that he knew drove her mad, pointedly, as if to say, <em>I told you not to bring this up</em>, “—you’d come for me, wouldn’t you?”</p><p>Instinctively, James bucked up into her at the question.  She cried out as the seam of his trousers hit her clit, fleeting but electric, sending a ripple of pleasure through her extremities.</p><p>His voice was steely when he answered; he spoke lowly into her ear. “You know I would.”</p><p><em>I do know</em>, she thought, and it emboldened her enough to drag her hips slowly over him and let the feeling wash over her, knowing he was watching. She was winding him up and she knew it – but she knew <em>him</em>, and the payoff would be so, so good.  “I could picture it,” she gasped, “I’d finish my shift at the Order’s headquarters in Cardiff, and I’d walk out the door to get to my hostel, and someone – maybe Mulciber or Carrow from school, I don’t know – someone would grab me, or they’d put me in a body-bind, and they’d drag me away—”</p><p>Lily’s breath was stolen from her as the world shifted, and suddenly she was on her back, hands pinned above her on the plush pillows, and James was <em>everywhere</em>, his face hovering over hers and his body pressed into her at every possible juncture.  She arched upward desperately, seeking contact wherever there was space.  She loved – and knew that <em>he </em>knew that she loved – being surrounded by him like this.</p><p>James was staring at her, now, eyes blazing. He’d never admit it (read as: she already knew), but he loved it when she talked like this; not the <em>danger</em>, of course, but the way she knew that he’d always be there to save her – that he’d never leave her on her own.</p><p>His voice was an angry hiss, wound tightly, when he next spoke: “what happens next?”</p><p>Finding her voice took Lily a moment; one of his hands was working the Jersey up off of her, exposing her breasts to the evening chill. It was driving her barmy.  “I think—I’m bound and I’m gagged, and he’s bringing me along, and I’m <em>scared, </em>but all I’m thinking about is you, James, and that you’ll know something’s wrong, that you won’t hear from me that night, and I’m trying to get out—” her own cry of <em>“ah!” </em>cut her off, as James’s lips descended onto one of her nipples while the hand not currently pinning her wrists traced circles around the other, “—and I—I mean, you, <em>oh, fuck</em>…”</p><p>After James had managed to get her top off, he grounded himself by watching her breasts heave with her deepening breaths. His own breathing was going ragged as his eyes squeezed shut, the images she described flashing into his brain and sending his blood searing hotly through his veins.  “This had better not end with you in danger, Lily,” he murmured, laving the skin above her nipple with his tongue and nipping it at it with his teeth, “don’t stop.  Tell me what happens.”</p><p>“I—” her entire body was writhing under him, legs once again wrapping around his hips and heels digging into his arse (which still, infuriatingly, had sweatpants on) to drive him closer to her aching, cloth-covered pussy, “—he brings me to this building, and inside there’s, um, there’s two more of them, and I know they want to hurt me, James, I can see it on their faces—” furious at this new development, James brought his face up to her neck and set her wrists free, caging her in his arms and kissing below her ear while giving her the freedom to wrap her arms around his neck to bring him flush against her chest.  She could hear him growling in her ear, picturing the scene, infuriated, <em>murderous</em>, yes, but so turned on, so hard against her knickers, “—but then before they can, the door bursts open again and you’re <em>there</em>, you’re in your Order robes and you’re angry and <em>beautiful</em>, and I guess you’d come to find me and no one knew where I was, but you—you wouldn’t stop looking, would you?”</p><p>His answer was both furious and immediate. “Never, baby, <em>never,” </em>his face was suddenly in front of her, and she felt the heat of his gaze from her toes to the crown of her head, “the Dark fucking Lord himself couldn’t stop me from finding you.”</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p><em>“Yes.” </em>Every muscle on his body was both tense and stunning.  Lily was reminded of the moments before his Quidditch matches, when he was so still and so wound-up that the contours of his body looked like they had been sculpted from marble, impenetrable and solid. “You know,” he continued darkly, and she just about shattered, “that I’d kill anyone that fucking <em>looked </em>at you.”</p><p><em>Merlin help me, I’m melting</em>.</p><p><em>“James…” </em>She was overcome by him; her voice barely registered as more than a desperate whine.  The need to kiss him was like the need for air, and she was suffocating without it, gagging, choking.  She pulled his lips down to hers, and he took them ravenously for a brief moment before pulling away, leaving her – once again, as she always would – chasing his lips.</p><p>“Go on,” he whispered, “you’re not done.”</p><p>“Right,” she gasped, as she’d largely forgotten that she’d been saying anything in the first place, “you come in and you see me on the ground, and it’s just <em>carnage</em>, James, what you do – I don’t even know, kill, stun, obliviate, <em>whatever</em>, but I’m watching you and you’re incredible, they’ve no chance at all, but one of them—he tries to grab me, to put me in front of him—” a particularly hard thrust of his clothed cock onto her center had her opening her mouth but unable to form sound, but Lily could see that he was <em>in this </em>now, he was watching the scene play out in his head, so she had to press on, regardless, “—and d’you know what he—what he says to you?”</p><p><em>“What?” </em>James groaned.  Lily had no idea how she’d gone two weeks without hearing that <em>voice</em>, low and gravelly and dangerous and perfect.  His fingers traced patterns around her belly button as he pressed kisses around her face and jaw.</p><p>“He calls me a mudblood, James—he calls me a whore, tells you to replace me—"</p><p>Anything she was about to say after that was drowned out by James’s roar, enraged and indignant, sending a shockwave up her spine. In the next breath, there was no space between them and his mouth was slanting hungrily over hers, hips snapping forward and eyes pressed tightly shut.  Lily returned his kiss eagerly, arms looped around his neck and soft sighs falling into his awaiting mouth. </p><p>“I kill him, don’t I?” He murmured into the kiss, “I kill him before he can fucking touch you, before he lays a dirty hand on you, and I take you out of that damned house.”</p><p>Suddenly, his fingers were hooking around Lily’s knickers and dragging them down her legs for her to kick off.  “<em>Yes,</em>” she whimpered, legs falling open and hips lifting in invitation, “yes, you do, you lift me up and you undo the bindings—” another low hiss from James, who’d apparently forgotten that she had been bound in this story, “—and you take me out so quickly, you save me, <em>James</em>, god, and I know you <em>would</em>, the thought of it—it’s so…”</p><p>Those <em>bloody hands </em>left her for just a moment to tug down his sweatpants and free his cock, and he was bloody lucky that that’s what he was doing, she thought, because the sight of it was the only thing that could stem the rush of annoyance she felt at the loss of his touch. He was so <em>hard </em>and so <em>hot </em>and leaking and suddenly she was boiling all over, a wave of need and longing drowning her and tumbling her head over foot toward the shore.  She reached out to grip him, and he bucked into her hand, groaning.</p><p>It was concluded altogether very quickly: if she didn’t have him inside of her immediately, she was going to <em>die</em>.</p><p>(Such was being 19 and married, one could say.)</p><p>Lily endeavored to communicate as much: <em>“Please,” </em>she moaned, one hand wrapped around his neck and the other pumping him slowly, “James, <em>please</em>, please fuck me, I need you so badly it hurts—James, it’s been too long, I can’t wait any longer…”</p><p>“That’s my girl,” the timbre of his voice was low and earth-shaking, “you’ve been so good—you had to wait so long for me, baby, I know, I’m sorry…” He lined himself up with her entrance but delayed, choosing instead to rub the tip of his erection up and down her swollen lips. </p><p>Lily sobbed, arching and bucking.  His eyes did not once leave her face as he spoke. He was cataloguing her expressions, punch-drunk and needy and downright otherworldly.  “…And I got home from my meeting today, not even expecting to see you for another day, and then you appear looking like pure <em>debauchery</em>, teasing me in my favorite jersey with barely a scrap to cover your cunt.  Do you know what that did to me, Lily?  Not seeing you for two weeks and then looking over my shoulder to see my own personal fucking fantasy standing in my bedroom, already wet for me?”</p><p>“Show me, James, please, <em>show me </em>what I did to you—”</p><p>It was more than enough.  Before she could finish her sentence, James had plunged into her, pressing his mouth to hers once again to swallow her cry.  He took very little time to set his pace, instead grabbing her leg to lift it up above his shoulder and thrusting into her with all of the force built up from their horrifically long stint in different areas of the United Kingdom, those blasted two weeks where all he could think about was if she was safe, if she was healthy, and the myriad of things he was going to do to her when she returned.</p><p>This being one of them.</p><p>His lips assaulted, re-assaulted, and then soothed any previously neglected centimeters of her neck as well as the newly accessible expanse of space below her collarbones, first teeth and then tongue and lips in the interim, desperate to taste the sheen of sweat that had collected on her skin, fraught with the need to feel her pulse thrumming – <em>moving, alive, here, alive </em>– beneath his mouth. </p><p>“You feel fucking <em>divine</em>, Lily,” he was so deep inside of her, and she was moaning so prettily, and he was going to spend an abundance of time staving off an already-impending orgasm, “you were <em>made </em>for me.  Your pussy was fucking made for me, do you hear me?”</p><p>One of his hands moved to cup her breast, the other holding him up – barely off of her, but still technically <em>up </em>– as he moved.  “God, <em>yes</em>,” she keened, nipping at the earlobe closest to her mouth, “we were made for each other, <em>oh—”</em></p><p>From a feminist standpoint, Lily felt that she ought to be embarrassed about the following statement and what it meant for how much power James had over her: it took about thirty seconds and a particularly well-placed kiss to her neck to send her careening into her second orgasm. </p><p>(I mean, <em>really</em>.  Lily was sure that there was some sort of Gloria Steinem embargo upon allowing a man to drive you insane with about six thrusts and a sloppy press of lips to jugular, but at present, she could not find it within herself to care.)</p><p>She descended back to the earthly plane to find herself babbling into James’s ear while he smirked devilishly into the side of her throat – which, yes, she could feel and knew him well enough to confirm. “James,” she gasped, “I wasn’t finished with—<em>oh, harder, please</em>—with what happens…”</p><p>Lily was sure a slew of images apropos their earlier conversation flew across James’s retinas, a slideshow of her tied up and calling his name, himself breaking down doors and firing hexes to find her, because his grip on her breast tightened and his next two thrusts sent stars flying across her vision. <em>“Oh?” </em>His voice was strained with effort; the preparation to hear what was coming mixed with the current – <em>ahem – </em>expenditure of energy.  She ignored the cramp beginning to form in the leg currently resting over his shoulder and thanked whatever deities existed for Petunia’s childhood insistence upon ballet lessons.</p><p>“You take me away, and then—and then do you know what I do?”</p><p>A growl and a nip at her lips. “What do you do?”</p><p>At this, Lily bit her own lip, lifting her eyes to meet his and doing her best to reciprocate the fire she saw in his gaze. It seemed to work, because his hips stuttered briefly, and his breath caught itself stumbling out of his throat. <em> Perfect. </em>“I get down on my knees for you and I suck you off in a little alleyway until you come in my mouth, because they think I’m a whore, James, but they don’t know me—know <em>us</em>—and I’m yours and I know what you like, and you can’t replace me if you <em>tried</em>.<em>”</em></p><p>James was helpless to stop the hoarse cry that left him.  It was either a swear word or a medley of unintelligible noises, but he could not for the life of him discern which.  In his mind, a byline ran from synapse to synapse, saying: <em>Merlin’s left fucking tit holy sodding fuck in the name of Agrippa and Godric—</em></p><p>He pulled out of her for the briefest of moments to lock his arms around her and turn them both over, hauling himself into an upright position against the headboard and seating her on top of him. He used one hand to grip the back of her skull through her plait – how that had stayed intact, he wasn’t sure – and seize her lips in his own, conquering, questing, ravishing her mouth.</p><p>“You haven’t come,” Lily gasped as she pulled away, high on him, desperate to be around him again, to be <em>full</em>, “let me—I want—"</p><p><em>“Yes</em>,” he groaned, strangled by his need, “ride me, Lily, I want to watch you fuck yourself on my cock, but I’m not gonna last long…” the subtext of this was <em>I’m not going to last very long with your tits in my face and with you looking as good as you do right now</em>, but he left that bit unsaid.</p><p>Evidently this was of little matter to Lily, who steadied herself on his broad shoulders and sank down on him in a fluid motion. Their gasps intermingled, both arrested by how it felt, still for a moment and staring at each other in mutual slack-jawed awe. It was interrupted by Lily rolling her hips – which sent James into a full-body clench and Lily into a long, drawn-out moan.</p><p>His arms were a vice around her once again, pulling her chest to his face so he could lick and suck at her tits as he had internally promised, and the sensation on her already-sensitive nipples send a shudder from Lily’s crown all the way down her back. She moved again, faster this time, and let out a low hiss.</p><p>“Oh, <em>gods</em>…” groaned James, voice obstructed by his mouth on Lily’s skin, “Lily, baby, I’m so fucking close…”</p><p>She kept her pace, arms on his shoulders, and leaned down to bite at his earlobe.  He moaned lowly. “Let go, James, please, I want you to come…”</p><p>Well.</p><p>James bucked up into her erratically, yet he still maintained the peace of mind to thrust his fingers into the seam of their bodies and rub small circles around her clit, searching desperately for a rhythm that suited her, that would push her over the edge before his own rapidly approaching release—</p><p>“<em>Oh, gods, James!”</em></p><p>–He grinned wolfishly into the space between her breasts as she fisted his hair. <em> There we are.</em></p><p>His grinning was rather short-lived, however.  The way she was tightening on him sent him floating into space, and he wasn’t entirely sure he didn’t see some minor god or apparition when she tugged his hair to guide his lips to hers. “Lily, yes<em>, gods, Lily, fuck—”</em></p><p>He groaned a messy imitation of her name as he spilled into her, white spots dancing across his vision as she kissed his open mouth.  He pulled his arms back around to cradle her tightly to his chest, entirely unwilling to be parted from her, and he drew his knees in slightly as he leaned back onto the headboard.  Lily’s eyes were open but clouded, a sleepy smile across her face.</p><p>“Gods, you’re stunning,” he murmured, eyes wide, “you’re something from a dream, Lily, I swear…”</p><p>She placed dancing kisses across his nose and cheeks and jaw. “Mmm,” she hummed in agreement, “you’re rather like a dream yourself, I’d say.”</p><p>They stayed like that for a while, until Lily complained of having to use the loo and James reluctantly let her out of his arms – but was rewarded with the view of her walking to the bathroom, which in itself helped soften the blow.</p><p>James was lying down amongst the pillows and gazing up at the ceiling when she returned. She snuggled up into his chest and listened to the sound of his breathing, content to hear the steady beat of his heart under her ear.  “What are you thinking about?”</p><p>He turned to look at her, honey in his gaze, but smiled ruefully. “One day, this war isn’t going to be a part of our lives,” he said.  It sounded like a promise; neither was sure which one of them it was for, “we’ll have a family and we won’t think about this at all.  We’ll just worry about what House our kids are sorted into, and how early is too early to put them all on brooms.”</p><p>Her smile was like four in the afternoon, when the sun was still high but the hues were golden and soft and melted onto the trees. “That sounds wonderful.”</p><p>The war raged on outside the walls of their bedroom.  Sometimes they let it bleed in, just the whispers they could control, if not just to prove that they were stronger than it, that their love could banish it just as quickly, reclaim it as something beautiful and hopeful. </p><p>But in this moment, both breathing in the stillness of the quiet flat with no war in sight, all they could do was think of how little they needed to be happy: just a beating heart and someone to listen to it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OKAY SO WE GOT HERE, WE'RE ALL HERE NOW</p><p>I hope you liked it, lol, writing smut is so out of my goddamn comfort zone I give myself hives trying to do it</p><p>I'm never one to withhold credit when I've had inspiration - 1000% you all need to go check out 'Dear Tuney' by AlightWithHappiness! Truly the peak of Jily dirty talk.  Also, I literally left a review on that story saying I had had a "half-cocked story in my head" that dealt with James having an overblown hero complex and, UHHH, here we are LOL.</p><p>Also, I can understand if some people are weirded out that the war makes it into their sex life, but my theory on it is this: the war is their life. it is their normal. there are many ways to cope with the danger and the peril, and one of them is to only allow it mental space in ways that are palatable to you - one of those possibly being in sex. I also want to stress how the entire fantasy sequence harkens back to James's compulsive need to feel important and valuable in the war, which he hadn't been while Lily was away, so it was a way of reassuring himself of his place.</p><p>Anyway - please leave a comment! Ya girl really put herself out there with this one, so I hope it pans out well!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Bonus Chapter: James in the Absence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>A peak of what James (and Sirius, now that I mention it) went through during Lily's mission.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SURPRISEEEEEE!!</p><p>Here's a little thing I whipped up for everyone who wanted to see James suffer during Lily's mission! And for those who wanted me to write a bit more smut - what better place than in On Heroism?</p><p>If you're wondering whom I envision for James and Lily in this story (and most of my canon, lol), look up Aaron Taylor-Johnson in his role in Albert Nobbs (for post-Hogwarts, scruffy war James) and Sophie Skelton as Brianna in Outlander, who is /perfect/ for Lily!</p><p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>James Potter awoke on the second day of his wife’s mission to a heavy, soft-cover book hitting him squarely in the back of the head.</p><p>“<em>OW, </em>WHAT THE—”</p><p>Vision swimming, he pulled his wand from underneath his pillow – one can never have it to close in times like these, he’d say, but this was not quite the scenario he pictured for its usage – and turned deftly to face his attacker.</p><p>“Oh, put the wand away, Prongs, or I’ll get mine out and we’ll have a measuring contest.  Not sure that’s how you’d like to start your morning.”</p><p>James deflated immediately.  He wasn’t sure what time it was, but regardless, it was much too early for this. “What do you <em>want</em>, Sirius?”</p><p>“For starters,” his friend grinned, eyeing James with a confusing mixture of pity and amusement, “I want you to take a shower—she’s not been gone twenty-four hours and you look like a fucking vagabond.  Are you auditioning for a play, perhaps? Role of <em>disgusting man number two?”</em></p><p>“…I’m tired.”</p><p>This was not an acceptable answer to Sirius, it would seem.  James had barely the time to shuffle quickly to the edge of his and Lily’s bed before Sirius had leapt onto it, spreading his arms out to mingle with the plush throw pillows James hadn’t bothered to clear off the bed the night before.  He looked far too comfortable for James’s liking and was promptly informed as much.</p><p>“Well, bully for you, then—you’ve got a right bit of work to do, and I’m not going to let you lie about and ignore it.” Sirius kicked off his shoes. They landed with two dull <em>clunks </em>on the wooden floor of the bedroom.  “<em>I, </em>however, have nothing to do today.  So, it’s either lounging in your bed or raiding your pantry, mate.  Your choice.”</p><p>“How about neither, and you fuck off back to your own flat?”</p><p>Sirius tapped a finger to his chin and furrowed his brow in mock consideration. “Nah,” he said after a moment, “I think I’ll just bother you until you get off your arse.  You’ve got wards to tend to, Prongs—<em>very </em>important stuff.”</p><p>“Oh, cut the shit, Padfoot.”</p><p>The authoritative tone James had been aiming for was undermined slightly by the fact that he had laid his face directly into a goose-feather pillow, and his voice was muffled by the soft cotton-blend pressing up against his features.  He had no desire to lift his head and see the smug expression currently resting on Sirius’s face. “We both know it’s all just busy work to keep my head from exploding while she’s away.”</p><p>Sirius scoffed, which was cause enough for James to lift his head and shoot him a rather harassed glare. “And it’s doing such a good job of <em>that—</em>a picture of success, you are.”</p><p>In truth, James probably should have been paying more attention to the tasks set forth for him by Dumbledore and the other Order of the Phoenix senior officers; he was mostly healed—his chest only throbbed with phantom pains if he overexerted himself, and he was too gifted in various forms of magic to not be helpful <em>somewhere</em>, so the only thing barring him from leaping up and attending to his duties was, well… himself.</p><p>It was just so <em>unfair.</em>  It had been decided while he was in hospital that, <em>no</em>, the Cardiff assignment could not be delayed until he was healed, so he’d have to be replaced by Benjy fucking Fenwick while his wife—his talented, intelligent, beautiful, caring, slightly danger-prone wife—took apart dark objects in the middle of bleeding Wales.</p><p>James turned over, wriggling his legs and stretching his arms above his head, sighing as his muscles loosened and his spine cricked.  He took the opportunity presented to swat Sirius with a pillow, whose startled “HEY!” in response almost made up for his unwelcome intrusion in James and Lily’s flat.</p><p>“I can’t be arsed, Padfoot.  Tell them to find someone else.  It’s not even important work, anyway.”</p><p>Sirius had the wherewithal to attempt to look offended.  “Not—Not <em>important work? </em>Not important work, he says! About managing anti-apparition wards into Order buildings! <em>Not important work, </em>indeed!”</p><p>“Well,” James was very quickly growing tired of this conversation and was considering the benefits versus risks of making an illegal portkey out of the pillow upon which Sirius was resting his head, “let’s put it like this. Have any Death Eaters apparated into the buildings?”</p><p>“No, not that I know of.”</p><p>“…then I’d say I’ve done my job quite well.”</p><p>This time, a pillow struck <em>him </em>across the face with the force to trigger an offended yelp.  James shot Sirius yet another in a series of annoyed looks—the man in question was absolutely unfazed, and James pondered the idea that he may have to come up with a new expression to express his annoyance.</p><p>“I’m going to say this once,” Sirius said, and his voice was suddenly, for lack of a better word, serious, “you’re not going to lie here and worry about her until she gets back.  I’m not going to let you, because you’d do the same for me, and because it’s frankly pathetic to watch.  She’ll be alright, Prongs.  You <em>know </em>how good she is.”</p><p>James was momentarily taken aback by the shift of tones in his brother’s eyes – they shone a cobalt grey, dark and daunting, eyes that had seen death and destruction, that had looked Orion Black in his face and defied him at the cost of his entire family.  The eyes of his best friend, a warrior—a survivor.</p><p><em>A survivor, </em>thought James, <em>like we all are.  Like we have to be. </em> </p><p>He looked away after a moment, accordingly abashed. “Yeah, mate, alright.  Go wait in the kitchen.  I’ll make some breakfast.”</p><p>“Ha!” Barked Sirius.  “<em>You </em>make breakfast? That’s rich.  I’ll go start the eggs, you useless tosser.”</p><p>He felt the bed shift as Sirius got up and heard as the other man paused for a long, almost hesitant beat, before he made his way out of the bedroom, as if reluctant to leave James on his own once more.  The reason became clear to James the moment Sirius had passed into the kitchen: suddenly, all at once, the bedroom was eerily quiet. </p><p>James was hit by the sharp pain of Lily’s absence like it had surrounded him in the emptiness of the bedroom, this gaping maw that had opened up inside him, threatening to suck him right in, to swallow him, to shrink him down into atoms and molecules.  He blinked a few times at the low light of the bedroom and attempted to swallow his panic and shove it back down his throat. <em> Two weeks, </em>he thought desperately, <em>it’s only two weeks, she’ll be fine, she’s just taking out dark objects, it’s just two weeks…</em></p><p>James Potter was talented at many things: Quidditch, Transfiguration, fighting, the list goes on.  But he was not—and never had been—good at being alone.  Loneliness suffocated him; it almost felt like it crowded the room, draining the air and burning his lungs on every inhale.  He looked around helplessly for a breath, seeing pictures of Lily and Sirius and Remus and Peter, and a scattered few of his late parents waving fondly at the camera. <em> How many more would he lose, who’d be the next funeral in this fucking war—</em></p><p>“And take a shower, you sod!” He heard Sirius’s voice boom from the kitchen, accompanied by the haphazard clanging of pots and pans.  It pulled a grudging, achingly fond smile to his face. “You bloody smell!”</p><p>“Fuck <em>off, </em>Padfoot!”           </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In the soft evening glow of the third night of Lily’s assignment, James let the water heat up a touch more than usual for his shower—just how Lily liked it, a hair shy of scalding that left his skin red and tender—and was thrown headfirst into a memory of taking her against the off-white shower wall.</p><p>He closed his eyes and swore; he’d been half-hard since her Patronus came back from Wales half an hour prior, nothing more than the husky tone of her voice as she whispered, <em>I miss you so much, James</em>, enough to send blood thundering down toward his prick.</p><p>(Codependence, thy name is James Potter.)</p><p>The images that accosted his senses had him gasping as he reached for himself, letting the stream of the shower run burning pathways down his face.  Droplets of water clung to his eyelashes and trickled steadily into his parted lips.</p><p><em>“Did you like it?” Lily was moaning into his ear, one leg draped around his waist and the other planted firmly on the tile floor, chest heaving and breasts bouncing in time with his punishing rhythm.</em>  James hissed as he began to stroke his cock.  He could almost feel her—tight, soft, pretty, <em>perfect</em>—around him as he leaned his free forearm against the wall above his head, fist clenched.  <em>“Knowing that I wasn’t wearing any knickers during the meeting? Did it turn you on, James?”</em></p><p>He remembered the incident in question as if it had happened that very morning.</p><p>She’d pressed her knickers into his hand only a minute after they’d exited the floo with the other Order members in the remote coastal cottage, and he had watched with narrowed eyes as she promptly reveled in his resulting growl, a heady mixture of arousal and shock.  Her eyes had been twinkling; nervousness, excitement, and unadulterated <em>want </em>swirled in the darkened emerald green of her irises while a small, accompanying smile had played at her pretty pink lips.  He recalled how she’d squeezed his hand and winked—how she had let her hips sway dangerously as she walked on to join the meeting.</p><p>“Naughty girl,” James groaned, an echo of the words he’d whispered into her ear as they had taken their seats around the large wooden table.  His hips jerked forward into his hand at the memory of her shy smile and the way her hand had played with his in her lap, tracing patterns on his palm innocently as he looked at him with eyes that said, <em>who, me?</em> </p><p>James could almost feel the shadow of her fingers on his palm; he chased the ghost of her touch with hands and hips.</p><p>He remembered with a shudder the desperation with which he’d torn her robes off when they apparated back to the flat, how she’d clung to him as he peeled her cloak away from her shoulders and tossed it carelessly onto the sitting room floor.  He remembered how he had gripped her thighs and picked her up, telling her how bad she’d been, working him up like that, how he’d have to get a summary of the meeting from Sirius because he thought of nothing except for the cleft between her legs, wondering if she was getting wet from how she teased him.</p><p>
  <em>“Gods, yes,” she gasped.  James shrugged off his jacket and then pulled his shirt off with one hand, the other clutching her to his front.  “The whole meeting, James.  I was so wet for you, I could feel you looking at me, I thought I was going to burst…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>James dipped his head and reclaimed her lips in his own, swallowing her next words. They kissed each other hungrily until he brought his hand down to spank her arse; he pulled his lips away just in time to hear her squeal at the harsh contact, allowing it trail off into a wanton whine as he massaged the smarting flesh with the offending hand.  </em>
</p><p>James sped up his pace with a low, longing moan. The fist resting above his head flexed as he drew a shaky breath.  “Fuck, Lily…”</p><p>
  <em>She stared up at him, breathless, as he trailed a hand down to the hem of her skirt.  His eyes followed the movement of his hand, twisting the fabric between his fingers before he slipped his index and middle finger underneath—until her intake of breath made him shift his gaze to her face.  Fuck, she was dripping.  “Take this off,” he breathed, “and start us a shower.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ohhh—ah!” Lily made no move toward the bathroom as his fingers parted her lips and circled her clit; she shivered and her clouded gaze searched his own, breath hitching as her chin tilted upwards and her mouth dropped open.  James mimicked the movements while he held her stare, brows raised in question, as if challenging her to keep her eyes open through his ministrations.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ah, ah, ah,” he tutted lightly as her eyelashes began to flutter, “look at me, Lily.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Please, James…”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He wasn’t entirely sure she knew what she was asking for—or that she even cared.  He pressed his forefinger into her entrance and watched in rapture as she cried out in response. He felt a buzzing in his brain as if he were drunk, and to an extent, he felt that he was: both on her and on the power he fought to regain after she drove him mad for the whole of the Order briefing.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The moment her eyelids began to droop, he pulled his hand away and wiped the wetness coating his fingers onto the taut muscles of her stomach.  He ignored her cry of protest and threaded his hands into her hair; his thumbs caressed her cheekbones lightly, reverently, a whisper of sensation that sent her lashes fluttering once more.</em>
</p><p>James pumped himself faster with a heated growl; every muscle in his body seemed to clench at once.</p><p>
  <em>“You’re going to get in the shower,” his voice was low and hoarse, and her eyes squeezed shut at the sound of it—as if the use of any other sense would detract from her ability to hear him speak. “You’re going to wait for me while I reinforce the shield charms around the flat.  Then, I’m going to get on my knees and make you come with my mouth before I fuck you against the shower wall.  Do you understand me?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Lily’s first response was a whimper that sent a shudder down his spine, immediately followed by her frantic nodding, her long, red hair swishing behind her at the motion and tickling James’s knuckles.  He pressed a firm kiss to her lips – a command, promise, and praise in one – and released her from his hands. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> She chased his lips for a moment, pleading with the smirk that crossed his features, before backing away and all but running to the bathroom, hands already tugging her skirt down over her hips.  He watched her go with a hungry gaze.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, god—oh, <em>fuck…</em>”</p><p>
  <em>By the time he had finished securing the shields and stripped his trousers and underwear off to join her, Lily was standing below the spray of the shower with her head tilted back and her hands running through the silken maroon of her wet hair.  The sight arrested him in the doorway to the bathroom.  He stared on, speechless.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Sensing his presence, Lily turned to look at him through the fog of the steamy room, twisting her body to face him and presenting him with a view that had him biting his lip to suppress a groan.  Her wide eyes roamed his figure but stuttered to a halt at the sight of his cock, hard and leaking, and her teeth snuck out to bite her bottom lip, a mirror movement to his own that turned him on more than it had any right to do.  Her stance shifted slightly as she pressed her thighs together.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>James recognized multiple apparent truths at once:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His wife was naked, she was randy, and there was absolutely no reason that he should be standing so far away from her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He crossed the room in a maximum of three seconds and dropped to his knees with no preamble, dimly hearing her whine as he parted her legs and nipped at the skin of her pelvis.  Looking up at her, James took in her features: eyebrows knitted, mouth open, green eyes wide and wild.  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He wanted to see her like this always, almost disbelieving of his desperation to bring her pleasure: it gave him something to prove, again and again, until that look was replaced with the sated bliss of a woman well-loved.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I’m going to make you scream,” he promised, and his stare did not once leave her face even as his hands palmed patterns into the skin of her thighs, “and after that, I’m going to fuck you so hard you don’t remember anything—except for the way it feels to moan my name.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The nod Lily gave was jerky and uncoordinated. He pressed his mouth to her and began to make good on his promise, and his name had never sounded so sweet as the cries he drew from her lips above him.</em>
</p><p>“Oh, gods, Lily—<em>fuck!”</em></p><p>James came with a choked cry of her name, vision blurring as his hand spasmed and his hips bucked.  He rested his head on his forearm and heaved shaky breaths, eyes sliding shut as the image of her pressed against the very same wall flashed brilliantly behind his eyelids.  He wondered briefly if he may never be able to shower peacefully again without that memory playing in his mind.</p><p><em>Eleven more days, </em>he thought grimly, <em>eleven more days until she’s back and I make up for the time we lost.</em></p><p>His legs shook as he moved to grab the soap off of the small ceramic shelf to his right, and he sighed deeply as he began to clean himself off.  <em>Eleven more days.</em></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>On the eighth night of Lily’s mission, James discovered a measure of time that was shorter than a nanosecond: the amount of time between when James received Lily’s owl, and when he had his bags packed and sitting by the entryway.</p><p>He barely heard the soft <em>click </em>of the front door shutting over the blood roaring through his ears.  <em>Death Eaters spotted at the market, </em>she’d said, <em>observed them for a while before they spotted us.  Had to engage until they fled for the night.  </em></p><p>She’d been fighting <em>Death Eaters.</em>  Without him. In Wales.  With backup to the caliber of Benjy fucking Fenwick.</p><p>“Er,” said a familiar voice from the entryway of the bedroom as James threw his cloak over his shoulders, “taking a trip?”</p><p>James did not even deign his best friend a glance as he tied his shoes; he pointed to the parchment sitting crumpled on top of the dresser.  He heard it unfurl, and then after a short pause, the sound of Sirius’s intake of breath.  “Prongs…”</p><p>“<em>Don’t, </em>Sirius.  Just don’t.”</p><p>His best friend was suddenly in front of him. “You can’t go, James.” His voice was firm, unyielding—James intended to break it to pieces rather than try and work around it. “She doesn’t want you to go.”</p><p>“I don’t fucking care.  If you try and stop me, I’ll hex you into next fucking century.”</p><p>James made for the door, eyes blazing and heart racing, before Sirius stepped in his way and ignored the yell of indignation that came hurtling out of James’s throat before he could think better of it.  The two stared each other down for what felt like an hour, neither willing to back down and both with everything to lose.</p><p>“Did you even read the bloody note?”</p><p><em>"Yes.” </em>James’s answer came out in an infuriated hiss, but Sirius was one of the only people who heard the fear underlying. “Of <em>course </em>I read the fucking note.”</p><p>
  <em>Death Eaters spotted at the market… Had to engage until they fled for the night…</em>
</p><p>“Did you read the part where she <em>explicitly </em>tells you that she’s fine and there’s no need to go gallivanting up to Cardiff?”</p><p>Admittedly, he may have skimmed that part.</p><p>Sirius gathered as much from the way James’s eyes flickered away from his face. “For fuck’s sake, James.”</p><p>But James was having none of it.  “I don’t need to explain myself to you, my fucking wife is fighting Death Eaters alone and I’m just sat here doing <em>nothing</em>—”</p><p>He gave Sirius a hard shove out of his way, to which his brother responded by grabbing James’s head and shoving it into the crook of his elbow, forcing him into a headlock as the two wizards fell roughly to the floor.  James gave a wordless squawk of indignation and attempted to elbow Sirius in the side as they collapsed into a heap, legs flailing until he broke away and turned to try and land a punch on his best friend’s face.</p><p>The two of them hadn’t grappled like this since sixth year.  Punches flew and landed, torsos twisted and maneuvered on the wooden floor to try and gain leverage enough for a solid blow.  James’s glasses were left woefully askew on his face, while Sirius’s normally artfully tousled raven locks were sticking up at odd angles.  The two men exchanged hostile swears and shouts as they rolled around, fists flying.</p><p>While James had usually been the victor of these types of tussles—a more muscular frame to accompany his passion for Quidditch, and all of that—Sirius was unladen by the restless panic seizing James’s every move, and he was able to land a sound kick to his best friend’s ribs that stole the air from his lungs and left him sputtering on the floor of his own bedroom.</p><p><em>“What—the fuck—is wrong—with you?!” </em>James wheezed, face impossibly red.</p><p>Sirius stood up and brushed himself off, wiping a spot of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of a bruised hand.  “You’re not going to do anyone any good by showing up at the Order headquarters and demanding to floo to Wales.  In fact, you’d do no one any good by showing up to Cardiff, wand blazing, with no plan whatsoever and just a fat load of anger because you can’t bloody stand to let your wife handle herself.”</p><p>James’s only response was a glare that softened slowly into a defeated wince as Sirius went on.  He was right, of course, but that didn’t make the sting of it all any less painful.</p><p>“Sort yourself out, mate,” grunted Sirius, already stepping over him to make his way back toward the kitchen, “and put some water in the kettle.  I want a cuppa and you owe me for splitting my sodding lip.”</p><p>With a sigh and a groan as his newly acquired bruises twinged painfully at the effort, James stood up and made to follow his brother into the kitchen.  He grabbed a quill and spare bit of parchment on his way across the bedroom—he’d owl Lily back that night and tell her to be safe, that he loved her, and that he was sure she’d be fine until he saw her again.</p><p>He could only pray that she wouldn’t make a liar out of him.</p><p>           </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The fourteenth evening of Lily’s mission found James Potter in a foul mood.</p><p>He’d woken up giddy that morning, throwing on his robes and apparating to complete his small assignments before he even said hello to Sirius (much to the chagrin of his best mate, who had been waiting on him to put the kettle on for morning tea).  It was the final day of Lily’s assignment, and all that stood in the way of their reunion was a few measly hours and a droning meeting with the Prewett brothers about adapting some muggle contraption called a “Molotov Cocktail” into their arsenal of remote, long-distance weapons.</p><p>It all came to a grinding halt, however, when Sirius looked up at his disheveled form (freshly apparated from Kent after a routine ward inspection) from his cup of lukewarm tea and said, eyebrows raised, “she’s coming back tomorrow. Just heard from Moody.  They’re all alright, just some wrap-up delays.”</p><p>No one had ever likened James Potter to a balloon before this moment, but if one were to observe the way he so visibly deflated, they could have made the comparison with very little difficulty.</p><p>“She’s not… coming back tonight?”</p><p>“Nah.”</p><p>For some reason, Sirius looked amused at his devastation, but when asked about this, the long-haired man simply replied, “I’ll tell you later, Prongs,” which only served to add frustration to the ever-growing list of negative emotions tumbling about James’s head.</p><p>He arrived home from his meeting in a sorry daze, now armed with the knowledge of what a Molotov Cocktail was and very much cured of ever wanting to see one again in his lifetime.  <em>Bloody fucking Prewetts, </em>he thought.  <em>Crazy, stupid bastards.</em></p><p>The apartment felt oddly warm, like someone had been in it recently and brightened it up, and James felt a spike of anxiety until he checked and re-checked the wards and paced the entirety of the flat with his wand aloft.  He reckoned that it must have been Sirius, intent on making sure that James didn’t throw himself out the window at the news of Lily’s delay.  He was a good mate—if not a bit of a prick.</p><p>Heaving a sigh, James made a beeline for the bathroom, eager to wash the day away and get straight into bed and sleep until Lily was back in the flat and safe in his arms once more.  The day couldn’t end quickly enough, as far as he was concerned.</p><p>He took a brief shower—too frustrated for a wank, he resigned humorlessly—and threw on a pair of grey sweatpants to wash his face and shave.   He wiped the steam off the mirror and stared at himself in it for a few seconds, analyzing and scrutinizing, trying to pinpoint what parts of him had matured since Hogwarts and what parts were still the boy whose faith in the world was unmarred by his knowledge of it.  His features were largely the same, he reckoned after a brief staring contest with himself, but for the length of his hair and the bags underneath his eyes.</p><p><em>Brilliant</em>.</p><p>Shaving took but a few minutes, what with the minimal scruff he had been sporting since Lily’s departure.  His favorite muggle song popped into his head as he splashed water onto his skin.</p><p>“<em>Hey, Jude</em>…” grabbing a towel, James shut his mouth to pat his face dry but continued to hum the tune.  <em>Don’t make it bad, take a sad song, and make it better…</em></p><p>The voices of Paul McCartney and John Lennon permeated his thoughts as he dried himself off.  Lily always told him he sang dreadfully off-key, but to himself he sounded downright gifted.  Of course, most of his singing occurred while drunk and harmonizing with Sirius—but they’d not had <em>that </em>many complaints.</p><p>He was remembering fondly the three a.m. performances of the Gryffindor House Song that he and Padfoot enjoyed putting on so much in fifth year—until a sweet, soft whimper sounded out from a few feet away.</p><p>He froze.  <em>It can’t be.</em></p><p>James’s entire body screamed at him to whip around to face the noise—hoping against hope, praying to whichever god might be available—but he chose to lift his head slowly, his mouth forming the word before his brain could catch up: <em>“Lily?”</em></p><p>And, by Merlin, there she was.  Fireworks went off in the pit of James’s belly, muscles seizing and eyes widening as his jaw fell open.  It took him a moment to convince himself that, <em>yes</em>, she was actually standing in front of him and not just some figure of his lust-addled imagination, because she was stock-still in the middle of their bedroom looking like every single teenage fantasy he’d ever had wrapped up in a bow and placed before him.</p><p>He could do nothing but let his gaze slide up her <em>(bare) </em>legs and toward her <em>(his) </em>Puddlemere United Jersey and then further north to her neck and shoulders and her <em>(beautiful, glowing, rapturous) </em>face, only to be topped off with her <em>(gorgeous, subject of his teenage daydreams) </em>red hair a messy plait that looked either windswept or roughed up by a tremendous romp <em>(and if it wasn’t before, it certainly was going to be shortly)</em>. He felt his cock twitch at the sight of her and his breath, nearly in tandem, stop altogether.</p><p><em>She’s here, she’s here, she’s safe, she’s here, she’s here, she’s mine</em>.</p><p>The way she was looking at him sent lightning shooting up his spine.  He knew her too well—she needed him like he needed her, desperately and without reservation.  She needed to feel that he was here just as much as he needed to feel that her pulse was still thrumming safely in her veins.</p><p>She blinked, he swore, and he was upon her in three strides.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I hope you liked it! I'll admit, it was a bit rushed because I won't have much internet in the coming days and I wanted to put something out there while I'm still working on the next chapter of New Age Romancing, but I hope it still read well and everyone got to enjoy James in utter turmoil!</p><p>I HAVE A TUMBLR NOW! it's @clare-with-no-i and it's where I interact with readers, talk about my works, and am very loose-lipped with snippets and teasers of what I'm working on! Follow me there if you'd like :)</p><p>Please leave a comment, I'd love to know what you thought! The flashback scene was a bit intricate to work with as it didn't follow in chronological order as it went on, but hopefully everyone got what was happening, lol!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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